


come home to my heart

by TechnicalTragedy (orphan_account)



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bittersweet, Blow Jobs, Crying, First Time, Internal Monologue, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Pining, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 15:16:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15665823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/TechnicalTragedy
Summary: He's given himself years to pine and lust, and though he knows Bobby will always have a piece of his heart, Junhoe has to at least try to move on. Later, though. He'll do that later.That's what he's told himself for the last few months, at least, but later has never come.





	come home to my heart

**Author's Note:**

> wrow another pining junbob with sex,,, will i ever get tired of this trope? probably not.
> 
> enjoy <3

Junhoe might be just a little bit into Bobby.

 

Okay, so maybe it's more like he's super into Bobby. He can't really help it. At first he tried to ignore or avoid it, but at some point he just had to give up and face the facts. His poor dick can't take much more of the furious jerking off he does when he thinks of Bobby even doing something so tame as kissing him or holding his hand. It's frankly shameful, how bad he's got it. He's a grown man yearning for his crush like some teenager with particularly wild hormones.

 

All the teasing, the touching, the smiles Bobby gifts Junhoe with - they're all tucked away in his mind, there for him to remember when he needs a quick pick-me-up. He takes what he can get.

 

He doesn't have much time to dwell on it, though, mostly because he doesn't let himself have time to dwell on it. Really, Junhoe has a lot of time to think and rethink and overthink, but he's trying his hardest to shove all those wants deep down where they'll never see the light of day again. He's given himself years to pine and lust, and though he knows Bobby will always have a piece of his heart, Junhoe has to at least try to move on. Later, though. He'll do that later.

 

That's what he's told himself for the last few months, at least, but later has never come.

 

He’s trying not to hold a grudge.

 

It's super hard to hold a grudge against Bobby when he looks like he does now.

 

Junhoe swallows as he spots his bandmates. They look good, after this time apart, all of them look healthy and well-fed and happy. Chanwoo’s face is scrunched up in amusement while Yunhyeong talks animatedly to him. Donghyuk watches on fondly. Jinhwan and Hanbin appear to be discussing the wine they’re both drinking. Bobby looks great. He's smiling, toothy and silly and impossibly familiar. There's a delicate flute of champagne between his fingers and his hair is dark and he's absolutely glowing, and Junhoe aches for him in a foolish way.

 

He hasn't been noticed quite yet, so he lets himself admire from afar for just a little longer.

 

Bobby has a little more muscle, his button down with its rolled-up sleeves tighter around the biceps than he usually wears his shirts. Junhoe hates that he remembers even that minute detail, for a brief moment wishes he could scrub his memory of all the little bits and pieces of Bobby he's collected along the way, but he never quite learned how to forget. Bobby twists his ring around his thumb, a tic of his that means he's feeling restless or his mind is somewhere else. He sips from his champagne and looks up-

 

The grin that steals across Bobby’s face - genuine, crooked, radiant - makes Junhoe’s heart skip a beat.

 

"June!" Bobby says, getting the attention of the others at the table. They look at Junhoe, smile at him, wave him over. He'd planned on faking aloofness, but Junhoe can't stop the smile creeping over his features for anything.

 

Junhoe slips in next to Chanwoo, directly across from Bobby, who's still got that excited expression on his face. He chatters at Junhoe, asking question after question like they're back in their rookie days. It's not the Bobby that Junhoe remembers from almost seven months ago, but he doesn't mind, is soaking up the attention gratefully. He answers each and every question to the best of his ability, and is rewarded with Bobby’s pleased, placid little smirk.

 

The two of them existing in their own little bubble doesn't last for too long.

 

Hanbin’s presence is as big as Junhoe remembers, drawing everyone in as easy as can be. It's a little overwhelming for Junhoe, to go from not seeing people for months to being subjected to the sustained attention of all of them. But they're his friends. Maybe even his family. He's missed them. So he talks, probably more than he has in the past year combined, and while he's not sure he would say it feels like coming home, it definitely feels good, feels natural and comforting.

 

Their food arrives eventually, and Junhoe can use that as an excuse to let everyone else talk. He’s learned that he likes listening.

 

The dinner with his group is refreshing, in a way. Tiring, sure, as most outings end up being, but nice. Familiar. It’s good to be around them again. Junhoe tries not to look at Bobby too much, afraid of being transparent, but he glances over to him occasionally. Jinhwan gives him a knowing look when he catches Junhoe staring after Bobby as he leaves for the bathroom.

 

But, as all things must, the dinner ends. The seven of them spill out onto the sidewalk and split off to their activities for the rest of the night,

 

The others have already gone their separate ways, leaving just Junhoe and Bobby standing on the street, looking at each other but halfway pretending they aren't. It's been too long, it feels. They've changed, and maybe they'll fit together now, but Junhoe can't work up the courage to test the waters. Just being around Bobby is enough for him. It has to be. It always has been.

 

Bobby takes Junhoe’s wrist in a gentle grip.

 

"Hey, June," he says, voice just as soft as his hold. He's smiling, just a slight upward turn of his lips, and Junhoe can't decipher what the look on his face means.

 

Junhoe swallows. "Hey."

 

"I missed you," Bobby says, guileless.

 

"I, uh, yeah," Junhoe says, cringing at himself. "I've missed you, too. A lot. It was nice to have dinner with you."

 

Bobby’s eyes crinkle up. "With everybody, you mean. To be honest, I wish it had just been you and me."

 

Junhoe’s breath catches, and he hopes Bobby can't feel his pulse speeding up in his wrist. "You do? Why?"

 

“I don’t know,” Bobby says. He looks like he’s telling the truth, but he’s a pretty good actor these days. “I just do. We don’t spend a lot of time together. Especially not recently. I want to change that.”

 

Junhoe’s brow furrows, his heart is going into overdrive. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Junhoe goes home alone and feels. Off-kilter. He feels like he has to be missing something, that there’s some piece to this puzzle he just can’t see. Bobby never wants to just be around Junhoe. He didn’t in the past, at least. But maybe things are different now, maybe the Bobby he ate dinner with is someone who-

 

Frustrated, Junhoe makes himself stop thinking so much about it. Overthinking, overthinking, overthinking, just like always. He wishes his brain would be quiet for once.

 

Just for once.

 

Over the course of the next few days, nothing much happens. Junhoe has too much free time on his hands. Everybody is busy doing this or that, and the dorm is always empty. He needs a hobby.

 

Four days into this weird slump, Junhoe gets a call.

 

He doesn't look at who it is before he answers, doesn't really care because it's a distraction. "Hello."

 

"Hi, June," Bobby says.

 

Junhoe blinks, surprised. He'd expected maybe his mother, but Bobby is pretty low on the list of people who usually call. "Is something wrong?"

 

"Why would something be wrong?"

 

"You never call me."

 

Bobby sighs, the sound crackling over the line. "I know. Have you eaten?"

 

"Um," Junhoe realizes that, uncharacteristically, he hasn’t. "Not today, no."

 

"We should eat together!" Bobby says. "I know this really good place and I think you would like it."

 

Junhoe doesn't have to consider it. "Of course. Where and when?"

 

"Be ready by seven and I'll come get you," Bobby tells him. "Dress well. That dark blue suit looks good on you. Wear that one or a black one. Seven, don't forget!"

 

"I won't." Junhoe has half a mind to chide Bobby for trying to dress him, but decides he's okay with it. It's maybe even a little bit pleasant, to not have to agonize over what he should wear. "See you at seven."

 

Junhoe tucks his phone away. Seven seems like a lifetime from now.

 

After much waiting and lazing about, though, seven does roll around. Junhoe wears the blue suit Bobby told him to, and he has to admit that he looks good in it. It's a little odd that Bobby took notice of Junhoe’s choice of suit at all, but if he thinks too hard about that it just gives him false hope. He doesn't need that right now.

 

Bobby texts him when he arrives, and Junhoe piles into the back of the car with him. The driver starts off as soon as the door closes.

 

"Come here often?" Bobby asks in English.

 

Junhoe rolls his eyes. "Don't you usually make it to the restaurant before the bad pick up lines start?"

 

Bobby shrugs, shameless. His eyes track downward, over Junhoe’s suit in a way that makes his gut clench. "You wore what I asked you to."

 

"What you told me to," Junhoe corrects.

 

"Yes," Bobby says readily. "What I told you to wear. You look good." He switches into English again. "Hot. Sexy."

 

Junhoe huffs a laugh, pushing at Bobby’s shoulder lightly. "One of us has to be handsome," he teases.

 

Bobby pouts exaggeratedly. "June, you don't think I'm handsome? Am I not pretty enough for you? I even got dressed up."

 

"I noticed," Junhoe says. How could he not? Bobby looks downright delectable in his charcoal ensemble, his hair styled carefully, his dark eyes intense on Junhoe in a way that makes him weak. "You know what you look like."

 

Bobby’s pout vanishes in a flash. He doesn't quite smolder, but his expression makes Junhoe’s mouth go dry. "And what do I look like?"

 

Junhoe spares a glance for the driver-

 

"Eyes on me," Bobby says. Junhoe’s gaze cuts back to him immediately, the thought of not doing so never even crossing his mind. "Answer my question."

 

"Gorgeous," Junhoe says. "You're gorgeous."

 

Bobby smiles, pats Junhoe on the thigh. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

 

"Asshole," Junhoe grumbles, trying valiantly not to blush.

 

"I think we're almost there," Bobby says, looking out the window. His hand stays on Junhoe’s leg.

 

The restaurant is fancy. The two of them are taken to a secluded table where a bottle of one of Junhoe’s favorite wines is brought out and Bobby orders for the both of them without a menu ever coming near the table.

 

Junhoe raises an eyebrow once he and Bobby are alone. "Have you been planning this for a long time, then?"

 

Bobby shrugs, sipping at his wine without looking at Junhoe.

 

"You didn't have to do all this," Junhoe tries.

 

"I wanted to," Bobby says. "Just let me treat you for once, June."

 

And, well, Junhoe doesn't know how to refuse, since it's already happening. He doesn't want to refuse, really. So he just settles in and drinks his wine and enjoys this time with Bobby.

 

The meal is delicious, despite Junhoe not having ordered it for himself. Catching up with Bobby one on one like this is much more intimate than Junhoe anticipated. All of Bobby’s focus is on him, almost unbearable with how much attention it really is. This is what Junhoe wanted, this was what he craved, but it feels too real as it happens. Bobby’s eyes don't waver, he's engaged in everything Junhoe says, he pours more wine every time Junhoe’s glass is empty but requests that there not be more than one bottle. It's weird, having Bobby take care of him, but it's not like Junhoe is opposed to it. They talk a lot, conversation meandering and sometimes stuttering but never stopping. Junhoe doesn't know that he's ever talked to Bobby quite like this. They were always too awkward with each other to have easy, wandering chats.

 

Junhoe enjoys himself. It's good to be with Bobby, to just let his feelings happen to him and not try to hide from everybody. Bobby looks contented, so Junhoe is as well. He doesn't want it to end.

 

They sit a little closer than necessary on the way to the dorm, but Junhoe’s got just enough of a buzz going that he doesn't care how obvious he feels. Bobby’s hand lands on Junhoe’s upper thigh, but Bobby doesn't seem to think anything of it. Junhoe even leans into Bobby a bit. His pulse is pounding in his ears, but there's still no complaint from either party.

 

Junhoe knows what he is, knows he wants Bobby more than anything in the world. He lets himself pretend for a little while longer that it’s something he could have.

 

After the car ride, they make it up to the dorm without much difficulty.

 

Nobody else is home, and maybe it makes Junhoe bold. He turns to Bobby, about to suggest that they break into Jinhwan’s wine stash, and he’s met with Bobby’s dark eyes trained on him, some unreadable expression written across his face.

 

“Hyung?” Junhoe says.

 

Bobby stares for another moment, then his gaze wanders off to the side. He gnaws awkwardly at his lower lip.

 

“Let’s hang out in my room,” he says. His tone is light enough that Junhoe could wave it off, could call it a night here and go to his own bed and never know where this would lead. But Junhoe can’t shake the darkness in Bobby’s eyes, can’t help but feel like maybe if he follows, Bobby will lead him someplace good.

 

Junhoe smiles. “Yeah, okay.”

 

A hot fist of shame clenches behind Junhoe’s rib cage, disgusted by how easy he is, by how much he wants to be right about where tonight is going.

 

Bobby closes the bedroom door behind them.

 

They avoid each other’s eyes for a while, standing on two sides of a chasm they aren’t sure how to cross. Junhoe is scared that he’s wrong, that he’s misread all of the signs.

 

“I have a confession to make,” Bobby says at length.

 

Junhoe meets his gaze, heart in his throat.

 

Bobby takes a step toward Junhoe. “I arranged tonight so I could,” he pauses to smile, “seduce you, I guess.”

 

Junhoe feels himself go red. It can’t be real. Surreptitiously, Junhoe pinches himself.

 

“You wore what I said to,” Bobby says. He’s closer than he was a moment ago. “I flirted with you in the car, bought you dinner and wine, took you home and brought you to my bedroom. Was I too obvious?”

 

Junhoe swallows. “I wasn’t sure.”

 

“Are you sure now?”

 

“I am,” Junhoe says in a rush. “But. Where are we headed?”

 

Bobby tilts his head thoughtfully, taking his gaze up and down Junhoe’s body. “I don’t know what you’re hoping for, June,” he says, “but I’ve been thinking about getting you out of that suit ever since I saw you in it.”

 

Junhoe’s breath stutters, a hot bolt of arousal shouting through him.

 

"Can you promise me something?" Junhoe asks.

 

"What is it?"

 

"Promise me..." Junhoe clenches his jaw around the words, feeling his cheeks grow hot. He's ashamed of what he wants, of his own neediness, almost doesn't want to ask because the worst thing Bobby could say would be no, but Junhoe would still say yes, would still give Bobby anything and everything if he so much as insinuated he wanted that. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to work up the courage to actually say what he needs to.

 

"June," Bobby says, gentle. His hand strokes over Junhoe’s jaw.

 

He opens his eyes, takes a steadying breath. "Promise me that this won't ruin us. That if you, if you regret this, it won't end our friendship. Is that a promise you can even make?"

 

Bobby softens visibly, the concerned lines on his face melting away into a dopey little smile. "I won't let that happen. Even if you change your mind and don't want to do this anymore, it won't upset me or make me hate you.”

 

"Are you sure?"

 

"Of course I am," Bobby says.

 

Junhoe swallows, letting himself be soothed by the promise. He leans into Bobby’s hand, still cupped around his jaw. "Will you kiss me?"

 

Their lips meet without hesitation. It's a little awkward at first as they learn each other, but they're experienced enough that they adjust soon. Junhoe submits easily, hums as Bobby pulls him closer with a hand on the small of his back. Kissing Bobby is like touching fire, like standing on the very edge of a cliff and waiting to fall. There's a hint of teeth, of tongue, of something rough as Bobby presses on the back of Junhoe’s neck to make him lean down a bit more. It's exactly how Junhoe imagined it would be. Except usually when he envisions this, neither of them have this many layers on.

 

"Hyung," Junhoe breathes as they part. His throat feels weird and tight, he might be on the brink of tears and they haven't done anything yet.

 

Bobby nods, kisses him again. "I know, I know. What do you want, baby?"

 

Junhoe has to laugh a little at that. "Baby," he says. "I like it. I want whatever you want."

 

"Baby boy," Bobby says, grinning. "You want what I want?"

 

"That's what I said."

 

Bobby pushes him back. "On your knees, then."

 

Junhoe rushes to comply, wincing as his joints complain at the sudden movement. He gazes up at Bobby, and it's kind of weird to have to look up, but it's nothing he can't get used to.

 

"So pretty," Bobby coos. "You look so good like this. You done this before?"

 

"Yeah," Junhoe says. He's already salivating at the mere proximity of his face to Bobby’s crotch. He can barely even remember who else he's sucked off, didn't actually even know some of them at all, but back when he was first discovering himself - usually in bar bathrooms or the back rooms of clubs or dark hallways and alleys - Junhoe was in this position a lot.

 

Bobby curls his fingers in Junhoe’s hair, surely messing up its careful styling. "Recently?"

 

Junhoe shakes his head.

 

"Busy, huh. I know the feeling."

 

"I imagined they were you," Junhoe feels the need to say. "I always wanted it to be you."

 

Bobby looks thrown off for a moment, before he grins. "I don't know if that's romantic or if you're just super thirsty for my dick."

 

"Why not both?" Junhoe says.

 

"Do you want this?" Bobby asks.

 

Junhoe puts his hands on Bobby’s calves and squeezes lightly. "I appreciate you getting consent and everything, but right now I really want you to fuck my mouth."

 

Bobby’s grip on Junhoe’s hair tightens to the point of pain, a bright spot of ache that sends sparks down his spine. His crotch comes forward, grinding against Junhoe’s face for a moment, the fabric of his suit pants rough on Junhoe’s skin and the warmth radiating through whatever layers he has on making something dark stir in Junhoe’s guts.

 

Almost without Junhoe realizing it, Bobby undoes his fly and pushes his pants halfway down his thighs, leaving only his dark briefs in Junhoe’s way. Junhoe mouths at Bobby’s cock through his underwear, earning himself a pleased hum.

 

"You want it real bad, don't you?" Bobby says.

 

Junhoe looks up at him through his lashes in the way his first lover had taught him to do all those years ago. The mechanics of seduction are drilled into his brain, but Junhoe has always just let others seduce him, instead. The chase is too nerve-wracking, leaves him too vulnerable. It's why he never went after Bobby before.

 

"Open," Bobby says.

 

Obediently, Junhoe’s lips part, his tongue protruding over the bottom row of his teeth. He wants Bobby so bad it's pathetic.

 

Bobby tucks the waistband of his briefs under his balls, exposing himself to Junhoe. He could stare at Bobby all day, especially this new piece of anatomy he's been dying to see. He's seen Bobby’s dick before, of course, on accident and only when flaccid, but this is an entirely different world than the cold showers they took after long rehearsals, the quick glances Junhoe got before he was too embarrassed to look longer.

 

The tip of Bobby’s cock taps Junhoe’s tongue, snapping him back into the moment. Right now is an awful time to get lost in memories.

 

Bobby moves slow at first, his cock gliding between Junhoe’s lax lips to get a feel for it. He pushes farther back each time, until he's bumping the back of Junhoe’s throat with every move. His grip on Junhoe’s hair is still tight. Without warning, his hips snap forward, causing Junhoe to gag on the sudden intrusion. It really has been too long since he did this.

 

The pace is decidedly less forgiving after that. Bobby fucks his mouth, holds him still and pliant. Spit gathers in Junhoe’s mouth and dribbles down his chin, and it's kind of gross but Bobby doesn't seem to mind, so Junhoe goes with it. He laces his fingers together tight so he doesn't try to grab Bobby, but he really wants to feel the flex in his thighs as his muscles work over the movements of his hips. He focuses on keeping his jaw wide, his throat open, on the quick bursts of air he can get through his nose. As long as he gives part of his mind to making sure he stays relaxed, Junhoe can let the rest of his mind drift off into the quiet, dark headspace where everything means something and Bobby and he can live happily forever after. Where they aren't idols or in this time and this place and they can be together, really together and really happy and the future would be laid out in front of them all shiny and hopeful. He doesn't want to be lost in his memories, but pipe dreams are different.

 

Junhoe is lightheaded by the time Bobby buries himself to the root in Junhoe’s throat. 

 

"-pretty, pretty," Bobby’s voice fades in. "Beautiful like this. You're always so hot, but you were made to be like this. On your knees. For me."

 

A tinny, desperate whine escapes Junhoe, and he swears he's about to pass the fuck out when Bobby pulls back, his cock leaving Junhoe’s mouth with a slick noise. Junhoe leans his head on Bobby’s thigh, catching his breath. His voice is going to be shot by tomorrow, but it's worth it.

 

Bobby pets through his hair soothingly. "You okay? Was it too much?"

 

All Junhoe can do is shake his head, dizzy with the lack of oxygen and the heady sense of lust. He's hard as diamond, so hard it hurts. Bobby is still hard, too, Junhoe knows, but they aren't even to the main event yet, he doesn't think, so it'd be a shame for Bobby to come down his throat.

 

"Let me take you to bed," Bobby says.

 

He pulls Junhoe to his feet, supporting him as his knees wobble from how long he was on the ground. They make their way to Bobby’s bed, Junhoe pressing lazy kisses into Bobby’s neck as they move.

 

Bobby stops Junhoe up short. He sits on the edge of the bed and gives him a crooked look. "Strip," he says, so Junhoe strips.

 

He wants to tease, to put on a show for Bobby, but even after all these years Junhoe still feels awkward in his lanky body, like he's wearing an ill-fitting suit. So he settles for efficient. Shoes, belt, watch, jacket, pants, shirt, socks. Efficient. It leaves Junhoe in just his underwear and Bobby still fully dressed, eyeing him up and down.

 

"Gorgeous, baby," Bobby says. He tugs Junhoe closer and wraps a hand around him through his briefs, drawing out a low noise.

 

Junhoe would be embarrassed by how hard he was if he didn't know Bobby wanted him just as bad. He hadn't even bothered doing up his fly, so Bobby’s dick is sticking up from his pants like some kind of weird flag. It makes the situation just a little ridiculous, but Junhoe is a fan.

 

"-and knees, middle of the bed," Bobby says. Junhoe realizes he'd blanked out again.

 

To cover up for that fact, Junhoe hurries to comply, scrambling onto the bed and resting on all fours, sticking his ass out. God. He's too gangly. He feels like a foal learning to stand most of the time. Of course, Junhoe knows he's attractive, knows if he wears this expression he gets that reaction, if he says that phrase in a certain tone of voice he gets this reaction. It is what it is. Maybe he's just still in shock that Bobby - who has known him for years, borne the brunt of Junhoe’s temper and teasing - wants him. That must be it.

 

Bobby touches him, and all these idle thoughts fly away from Junhoe.

 

"Look at you," Bobby says, almost sounding awed. "If I had my way you would never wear clothes again. Fuck." His hands wander over Junhoe, up his back, his thighs, his sides, brushing over his shoulders and landing on his throat.

 

Junhoe wants to cry. Bobby’s still clothed body is pressed against the length of his own, his dick hot and hard on Junhoe’s ass, fingers squeezing around his throat. When Bobby pulls, Junhoe rises onto his knees, the hand on his neck burning a brand into him.

 

"So hard, baby," Bobby says, his breath warm on Junhoe’s ear. He grinds his erection against Junhoe. "I wanna fuck you so bad. I've waited so long, wanted you forever. You said you imagined me when you were with those other men, right?"

 

"Every time," Junhoe breathes, and Bobby’s other hand presses against his lower belly, dipping down.

 

Bobby kisses the bolt of Junhoe’s jaw. "I thought about you, too. About bending you over the desk in the old dorm while everybody else was asleep. Maybe teasing you until you cried, making you beg. Coming all over that gorgeous fucking face of yours." As he talks, he rocks against Junhoe, slides his briefs down and strokes him languidly.

 

Junhoe’s thought about all that, too. He's hard as diamond under Bobby’s ministrations, starting to float away.

 

He's brought crashing back to reality when Bobby squeezes the base of his dick, making him grit his teeth. Fuck. He really needs to stay in the moment. Junhoe tries to focus on the present, on Bobby’s voice in his ear, on the feeling of his suit against bare skin, on the hand around his throat.

 

"Are you distracted?"

 

"I want you to fuck me until I can't think."

 

Bobby seems to accept this answer, because he pushes Junhoe forward onto his hands again and disappears for a moment. Junhoe hangs his head down to watch Bobby undress, admiring his body. Those thighs will be the death of him. Bobby grabs lube, Junhoe assumes, and returns, kneeling behind him again.

 

"Are you clean?" Bobby asks, tugging Junhoe’s underwear down. After some shifting around, he tosses the unnecessary layer aside.

 

Junhoe, ignoring the burning in his cheeks, presents himself to Bobby like an animal in heat. "Yeah. If you're clean, too, get rid of the condom."

 

Bobby doesn't answer, but Junhoe hears the lube clicking open, and a moment later a cool, slick finger teases at his hole. He bites his lip, holding himself still so he doesn't start trying to push back on the fingers that aren't even in him yet. That would be even more embarrassing than how desperate he must look right now.

 

The process goes faster than Junhoe figured it would, but it's been a while since he had anything in him. Maybe Bobby is just that good. Maybe Junhoe is about to black out because he's so hard he feels it in his skull.

 

Either way, Junhoe can't stand another minute without Bobby’s dick in him. It's driving him crazy, being on the brink of this thing he's fantasized about for years but not quite there yet. The blunt head of Bobby presses against Junhoe’s hole, and the whole world condenses down to that single point of contact. He's going to die if Bobby doesn't start fucking him soon.

 

"Breathe, baby," Bobby says, snapping Junhoe back into his body.

 

He sucks in a breath and forces himself to relax further. Junhoe closes his eyes and waits for the pressure to build and then break.

 

Gradually, Bobby pushes forward. Junhoe’s body sings, like a missing piece is sliding into place, and when Bobby is fully seated in him, Junhoe could swear his vision swims. He feels good, better than good. This moment he’s been waiting for, been wanting and dreaming of, this instant of being full and surrounded and completed. It’s everything.

 

He’s too poetic for his own good.

 

Bobby’s hand ghosts down Junhoe’s back, comes to reverently stroke over where Junhoe’s rim is stretched around his cock. Junhoe shivers at the feeling and pushes back against him.

 

“Everything good?” Bobby asks, voice strained.

 

Junhoe nods, barely processing the words.

 

Bobby slaps Junhoe’s ass, startling him back to himself, and then he starts to move.

 

They fuck like they mean it. Bobby is rough, he’s generous, he pushes all the right buttons and fills all the right places. He kisses at Junhoe’s back, he grips his hips tight enough to bruise, he tells Junhoe he’s pretty and perfect. Junhoe’s arms buckle, his chest hits the bed beneath him and he widens his trembling thighs. His spine bends for a better angle and when Bobby pushes, he moves. Junhoe isn’t sure he’s part of his own body anymore, not when he’s so unmoored and floating up and up. He’s never felt this way before, never disconnected from himself so thoroughly. He might be babbling but he can’t feel anything except Bobby inside him and the pleasure rocketing through his system. All he knows is that he’s crying, and he has just enough wherewithal to hide his face so Bobby can’t see.

 

“June,” Bobby says, and it’s tender and broken and his hips stutter and he bends to put his forehead against Junhoe’s spine. “June.”

 

Junhoe’s vision whites out as he comes. He might scream, but he can’t be sure.

 

Bobby fucks him through it, fucks him until he’s shaking with oversensitivity and crying for an entirely different reason than before. When Bobby finally stills, it’s a relief to Junhoe.

 

They lay together for only a brief moment before Bobby wanders off. He comes back and wipes Junhoe down with a warm rag after a moment, but Junhoe knows their time together is ending. Whatever this was, it’s over. Tomorrow they’ll go back to being awkward, to not being able to meet eyes or touch each other without cringing.

 

“Let’s sleep,” Bobby says.

 

Junhoe closes his eyes, bracing himself. He’ll be the strong one, then. Bobby doesn’t have to do it all.

 

Junhoe says, “They’ll find us.”

 

Silence falls over them, heavy and ragged. It’s too much of a risk to stay like this. It was risky to even do what they did, and an empty dorm can only last so long.

 

Bobby sighs. He doesn’t have to say Junhoe is right. They both know.

 

Junhoe doesn’t get fully dressed. He pulls his underwear on and stands there with his suit crumpled in his arms, swallowing down the despair that overwhelms him momentarily. He can’t afford to lose control right now, not when he’s so close to getting away from what he wants more than anything.

 

He doesn’t linger.

 

And if he cries himself to sleep that night in his cold, lonely bed, his pillow will keep his secret.


End file.
